The" L'album Noir " Entry
Date: 2.09.04
Climate: a gray, February day
Eating: --
Drinking: Water
Feeling: meh.
Listening to: "And even if the breath between us smells of alcohol, we'll call it confusion in the best way possible"
Watching: --
Reading: TIME, Nylon, Harvard International Review///et. al.
They say that admittance is the first step.
Step One:
Hello everyone, my name is Cherie, and...
I have a raging eating disorder.
I threw away all of the food I had in the apartment to encourage my starvation.
This is a fact.
Eddie is quite disturbed by this...well, he doesn't really know about this latest development, but we talked about the eating dysfunction at length last weekend on the way to the Holiday Club, which was a disappointment. Due to the said eating malfunctions, the absolut kurrant went down strong and kept me buzzing for longer than I would have liked.
I don't really know why I do this to myself, but I do. The guilt I feel when I do eat is overwhelming, and when I don't, I feel oddly satisfied. Everything feels thinner, which apparently is my goal.
I don't get it. I know its wrong but yet I do nothing about it.
I ration that since I got the Holmes Place gig, from 5am-noon thrice a week or thereabouts, and then working for seiu from 12:30-9pm, that I can avoid eating even moreso than I do now, which is definitely fucked up. On the days I don't work in the am, I ration I will work out, since this club is like the penultimate of luxury: I even get a free membership to their spa and the "ion filtered" pool...its posh.
But then my mind whirls back to why I feel my thighs are flabby, my arms droopy, and my belly far too soft.
I don't know. I know all of the rational arguments that will present themselves in what is left of my rational brain, but its like I just say "meh" and override them with this dying desire to be thin and gorgeous. Even though I am a size four. I mean, I KNOW why I do this to myself, psychologically and philsophically, but in practice, that knowledge truly is NOT power.
I see what is considered beautiful and feel oddly compelled to gain that type of status, which apparently is britney spears type breasts, kate moss's protruding hip bones, and so on and so forth. Perhaps its also because the people I value in life, friends and boyfriend(s) included, do-to some degree-pay their public homage to such figures, with slack jawed looks on their faces, statements of admiration, what have you...even if its supposed to be directed more towards the "music or fashion or acting" that the person engages in.
The grammy's were atrocious as usual, and I still dislike that fucking Outkast album, but once again, beautiful people running rampant.
I work in a field that is largely responsible for empowering those less fortunate to become counted on members in society: where wages and health care aren't just...why then do I fixate on something so unrelated to what I consciously view as important and worth fighting for? I don't work in the fashion or entertainment industry, where it may be logical for me to have this type of disorder, nor am I even in school anymore, surrounded by wanna be Barbie types and the males that ogle them, to which I was never an insider anyway...and then its like this swirling mess of "the Rules" where rule number One is to "display confidence in yourself as that is such a turn on" and here I am violating it...
I hate the standards women are supposed to live up to, yet consciously say they ignore: like they're just beautiful effortlessly and that they're soft core porn sex kittens underneath a badass assertive professional persona.
I don't really think anyone understands how goddamn impossible that is.
So why am I bothering with it at all?
Women are groomed from day one to know that they will largely be "observed" in society, regardless of the role they take on. Whether or not you pay heed to what will win you "praise" in that observation or if you can just say "fuck it" is what sets you and I apart, well adjusted female in her early twenties. Clearly I am not.
So thats that.
I have been listening to the Black album constantly. Its so great.
Date: 2.09.04
Climate: a gray, February day
Eating: --
Drinking: Water
Feeling: meh.
Listening to: "And even if the breath between us smells of alcohol, we'll call it confusion in the best way possible"
Watching: --
Reading: TIME, Nylon, Harvard International Review///et. al.
They say that admittance is the first step.
Step One:
Hello everyone, my name is Cherie, and...
I have a raging eating disorder.
I threw away all of the food I had in the apartment to encourage my starvation.
This is a fact.
Eddie is quite disturbed by this...well, he doesn't really know about this latest development, but we talked about the eating dysfunction at length last weekend on the way to the Holiday Club, which was a disappointment. Due to the said eating malfunctions, the absolut kurrant went down strong and kept me buzzing for longer than I would have liked.
I don't really know why I do this to myself, but I do. The guilt I feel when I do eat is overwhelming, and when I don't, I feel oddly satisfied. Everything feels thinner, which apparently is my goal.
I don't get it. I know its wrong but yet I do nothing about it.
I ration that since I got the Holmes Place gig, from 5am-noon thrice a week or thereabouts, and then working for seiu from 12:30-9pm, that I can avoid eating even moreso than I do now, which is definitely fucked up. On the days I don't work in the am, I ration I will work out, since this club is like the penultimate of luxury: I even get a free membership to their spa and the "ion filtered" pool...its posh.
But then my mind whirls back to why I feel my thighs are flabby, my arms droopy, and my belly far too soft.
I don't know. I know all of the rational arguments that will present themselves in what is left of my rational brain, but its like I just say "meh" and override them with this dying desire to be thin and gorgeous. Even though I am a size four. I mean, I KNOW why I do this to myself, psychologically and philsophically, but in practice, that knowledge truly is NOT power.
I see what is considered beautiful and feel oddly compelled to gain that type of status, which apparently is britney spears type breasts, kate moss's protruding hip bones, and so on and so forth. Perhaps its also because the people I value in life, friends and boyfriend(s) included, do-to some degree-pay their public homage to such figures, with slack jawed looks on their faces, statements of admiration, what have you...even if its supposed to be directed more towards the "music or fashion or acting" that the person engages in.
The grammy's were atrocious as usual, and I still dislike that fucking Outkast album, but once again, beautiful people running rampant.
I work in a field that is largely responsible for empowering those less fortunate to become counted on members in society: where wages and health care aren't just...why then do I fixate on something so unrelated to what I consciously view as important and worth fighting for? I don't work in the fashion or entertainment industry, where it may be logical for me to have this type of disorder, nor am I even in school anymore, surrounded by wanna be Barbie types and the males that ogle them, to which I was never an insider anyway...and then its like this swirling mess of "the Rules" where rule number One is to "display confidence in yourself as that is such a turn on" and here I am violating it...
I hate the standards women are supposed to live up to, yet consciously say they ignore: like they're just beautiful effortlessly and that they're soft core porn sex kittens underneath a badass assertive professional persona.
I don't really think anyone understands how goddamn impossible that is.
So why am I bothering with it at all?
Women are groomed from day one to know that they will largely be "observed" in society, regardless of the role they take on. Whether or not you pay heed to what will win you "praise" in that observation or if you can just say "fuck it" is what sets you and I apart, well adjusted female in her early twenties. Clearly I am not.
So thats that.
I have been listening to the Black album constantly. Its so great.